


Prison of the Mind

by Lokiitama



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, BAMF! Coran, BAMF! Lance, Gen, Gen Work, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Set between s4 and s5, Space Adventure!, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15143015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiitama/pseuds/Lokiitama
Summary: "They had even dared to say, they were leaving him “in charge” on a “very important” mission. While they got to play heroes with their lions.They would whoop the Galra’s butts in no time, and then they would have a sweet, sweet celebration. There would be tons of pretty aliens only waiting to be flirted at, exotic new food to try, new allies to meet, a new culture to learn from with its folkloric costumes, growing forces for the alliance, new tech to mess around with, and clearly a lot of new stuff put in the castle. Whether it be decorative or edible.And then, Lance. The Delivery Boy. Sharpshooter at times."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was beta-ed by Rken42 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/rken42/) !

Lance was… beyond pissed, if he had to be honest.

One of the reasons may have been that he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact he didn’t reach the fighter pilot class right away at the Garrison. But the biggest one for sure, was that the  _ entire  _ team had basically shoved him at the helm of a cargo ship. Okay, it was still an alien ship. But it didn’t change the fact that it was a cargo ship.

They had even dared to say, they were leaving him “in charge” on a “very important” mission. While they got to play heroes with their lions. 

He wanted to play hero with Red, too ! And get the parade !

Heck, with how things were going, they would perform awesomely, as always. They would whoop the Galra’s butts in no time, and then they would have a sweet,  _ sweet _ celebration. There would be tons of pretty aliens only  _ waiting _ to be flirted at, exotic new food to try, new allies to meet, a new culture to learn from with its folkloric costumes, growing forces for the alliance, new tech to mess around with, and clearly a lot of new stuff put in the castle. Whether it be decorative or edible.

And if only he had been there… Hunk would’ve been amazed by the food and he would have pushed some to his face to try while pointing out cool facts about the tech he just had parted in pieces. Pidge would go nuts over the tech, before it got parted by Hunk, and babble to him about how amazing it was, he would have nodded, even if he only understood a solid half of what she was rambling on about. Coran would have come to tell him stories of the past, and tell how similar the culture was to another planet he’d love to go visit back, even though it could have been very deadly for all of them. And when he would have felt the need to take some time for himself, he would have playfully flirted the day away.

But nooooo, instead, they decided to stick him behind the helm of a very slow, very not-feline, and very  _ bo-ring _ cargo ship.

Sure, he knew it that the job was important and all. He had to bring the artifact to the twin planet that was  _ only _ five hours away, with this very precise cargo ship, because it was the only vehicle that could be capable of containing the artifact’s energy. And sure, he knew that his act of ‘bravery’ would greatly help the planet they were saving. It would ensure almost right-away an alliance for Team Voltron. Allura would be proud of him. Shiro’s stress levels wouldn’t go higher than necessary. Lance would be useful.

… But that didn’t take away the fact that it was  _ five hours long _ only to go. And five hours long to come back. He’d probably miss everything and get back to a very lively castle where everyone would joyfully tell him about how the parade was great and how the party was even greater. And that sucked.

The worst was that the others weren’t even looking remotely guilty about shoving him in the cargo ship. Not even Hunk, who had shared all his pains and heartbreaks for so long !

The big guy had just smiled calmly while telling him that he was, after all, the best cargo pilot of his class till he got promoted. It made him the one with the most experience out of all of them, after all. That wasn’t fair ! 

Where did that put him on the team ?

Shiro, leader extraordinaire. Hunk, part-time Grand Chef and genius engineer. Pidge, hacker and inventor out of every living being’s league. Allura, diplomat, princess and awesome pilot of not only the best Lion out there, but also the entire Castle. Coran, the designated medic and most knowledgeable person in their team, always ready to cheer up anyone. And Lance. The  _ Delivery Boy. _ Sharpshooter at times. When the situation allowed it, once in a blue moon.

He let out another short, irritated sigh.

 

. 

 

As the hours passed, his anger died down to a small, throbbing regret at the back of his mind. He couldn’t be too mad at the others. They were too important for the fight back there. Sure, the fighting would probably have went smoother with Red, and it would’ve been definitely faster but… protecting ancient artifacts from getting into the wrong hands ? That wasn’t too bad either now, was it ? Is sounded almost heroic. Heck ! If he looked at it from a positive point of view, it could even be relaxing. Some alone time with only his thoughts… and the never-ending worry about possible injuries for his teammates. Yeah no, they were definitely doing great out there, as always. 

He totally didn’t want to keep his comm open because he would be listening to them doing great. Totally.

Ah, if he had knew beforehand he’d be on this kind of mission, he’d even have brought some tunes. No one was there to judge him for singing out loud like an absolute diva and shaking his body in rhythm anyways. So relaxation in complete silence it would be.

Or, well… relaxation in complete silence, until he heard some noise coming from the back of the cargo ship. In the middle of dead space. Where everything was assured to be super silent… Maybe he was imagining stuff, but now it felt pretty real, even if he was technically the only one on the sh-

The noise repeated itself. As if something was fumbling with the crates in the back. Actually it wasn’t ‘as if’. He had heard people load a cargo more than once at the Garrison, during the simulations. It was necessary they’d said. To know if they’re not doing anything in the back of the cargo while the pilot was busy piloting, they’d said… Well he hated to say it, but those stupid lessons did come in handy, in the end.

Lance let slowly go of the controls, careful not to shake the spaceship too much. Hopefully that would trick whoever was on board that he was still piloting gently. As he rose up from his seat, he summoned his bayard, taking the right posture, ready to strike if anything happened.

He approached the door separating him from the back of the ship, and listened.

The fumbling was definitely louder by now, and he could hear crates being forced open. So… it was some sort of thieve searching for the artifact, then ?

Lance put his hand over his chest plate, making sure he still felt the small bump in his undersuit, frowning. He drew back to put his hand flat on the door scanner to open it and surprise the thief like a knight in shining armor. However, a certain sound made him stop right in his tracks, just before his fingers could reach the scanner.

The footsteps had multiplied. 

They were uncomfortably metallic. Those steps were another sound he had learned by heart. Each time he heard them, his heart would start beating faster, pumping adrenaline in his body, triggering his fight-or-flight instinct. Those sounds, he hadn’t learnt about them at the Garrison, no.

He hard learnt them in space. And they meant danger.

They meant Galra sentries.

Galra sentries were on his ship. How had they sneaked in unnoticed ?! The big battle was with the team, not with him. He wasn’t even doing something remotely important ! They probably sought the artifact. He didn’t see how that small piece of crystal could be of utter importance to the Galra. Was it to active an ancient, powerful weapon ? One like Voltron ?

Lance retreated from the door, and activated his bayard. They wouldn’t take the artifact. At least not without going through him.

The team, out of well-justified paranoia considering what was happening back there, had put the artifact’s crate by the pilot seat, to make sure it would be protected at any cost. If anyone wanted to put their hands on it, they’d have to go through Lance.

And, see… Lance wouldn’t have stolen it, no way, he was a good guy, but he was someone very curious by nature. He had  _ really _ wanted to know what the artifact looked like. So, as soon as he had left the atmosphere and could let go of the helm for a bit, he did. He opened up the crate to check out what the artifact was like.

Only to find a smaller crate inside that. And an even smaller one in the smaller one.

Actually, he was pretty sure he had played matrioshka with those crates for at least a good fifteen minutes - which was nothing in for the five hours of the travel. And inside the very last, very little crate, he found some sort of tiny sculpted crystal. He didn’t know how powerful it was, but surely, when he saw the size of that thing, he got scared of losing it. Better safe than sorry. He had tucked it in his undersuit even, so it had even less chances of getting damaged if things got rowdy. His armor only added more protection.

Those Galra back there would literally have to kill him to be able to get their filthy hands on the artifact.  

And as the footsteps multiplied and stilled, Lance readied himself. They would open the door at any second now, and he’d have to start shooting. For his own survival, and also for the mission. He wouldn’t let his team down. Not while they were doing the big fight, saving planets. He  _ would _ deliver this artifact. It was too precious for them too loose. Even more so now that he knew Galras were after it. 

The door swooshed open.

Lance shot the head without any second thoughts.

There was a frozen shock from both parties for few seconds, as a very warm, very dead Galra fell heavily on the ground, their blood splattered everywhere. Their slack jaw was open as if they had wanted to give out an order or scream in horror. Lance would never know.

Everything snapped back to reality. Robots swarmed into the cockpit as shots were exchanged at a relentless pace. Each shot that landed on his armor or grazed the undersuit was met with a blast that downed a robot. Lance kept them them relatively at bay. That still didn’t prevent them from coming forward to him but at least, they were much slower. That still made a lot of enemies to take care of by himself, though.

How many of them had boarded, exactly ? The entire battle cruiser ?!

He saw sudden movement in the steady flow of firing robots. One of them started running straight at him, piercing through the others. Since when those things used strategy ? That was new !

Whatever, Lance thought, as he shot it down before it could even cross half the distance.

The moment hadn’t last very long, but it had allowed the other robots to approach  _ dangerously _ closer. He aimed for the nearest one at his right. The running robot suddenly sprang back up, finishing its mad sprint and flung itself across Lance.

It was hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor of the cockpit. Even though his helmet took most of the hit, Lance still took a moment before being able to fully reconnect to reality.

When he did, it was to witness  the robot he had shot crashing down in front of him. Two very not-robot leg standing behind it, barking orders he couldn’t quite focus on yet. Even if he couldn’t hear properly yet, he most likely knew what the orders would’ve been about. But they wouldn’t find the artifact in the crates he had oh-so-carefully replaced.

What a surprise it’d be for them to fumble with those crates for a while, only to find them completely empty. The tiny crystal was painfully stuck between the cold, hard floor and his skin.

Once Lance fully came to regain his sense, he discreetly glanced around. The robots had stopped moving, there were two by his head and he could hear the Galra grumbling about the crate in the cockpit. They were all relatively distracted then. Lance hadn’t let go of his bayard when he fell down, it just had deactivated. Perfect then.

He still had a chance and he sure as hell was going to take it.

He activated his bayard in its sword form and swung it across the feet of the robots, before springing to his feet to finish the job. He made sure they never functioned again.

Of course, that mess had alerted the others. There were only 5 left of the tiny army they had brought onto this cargo ship. Including the Galra that just looked up from the crate.

Lance may have have stumbled a bit while getting to his feet. He activated his good old trusty gun aspect of the bayard and shot the first two robot while being behind his shield. Then he rammed one into the wall, pinning it there, while blasting the other. A quick headshot to the one he had pinned left only the Galra.

And that one strangely stayed frozen when he took down the bots. He was staring at Lance with a slack jaw. Judging by his uniform, he was just another underling brought along for this mission. It didn’t matter, Lance forced himself to think, as he rose his gun up to the soldier, ready to shoot at point blank.

“Why were you planning to use the artifact for ?” Lance asked, emptying his voice of all the emotions he could think of. Maybe the Galra race had discovered something powerful. He needed the information to be able to warn his team, in case it  _ was _ something important, and not just Galras being bullies with planets’ sacred objects.

The other went rigid, snapping his mouth shut. Lance couldn’t tell what his expression was due to the stupid helmet the Galra wore over half his face. If anything he had looked confused for a split second, before smirking and showing off all his sharp teeth. Lance didn’t like that one bit and frowned, never leaving the helmeted mouth of the enemy from his eyes. He shoved the barrel of his gun against the armor of the Galra. “Answer !” He growled. He was growing nervous at not being able to see the other’s emotions.

While Lance was focused on the helmet, the Galra took his chance to move. Slapping the gun away, to take a step forward so Lance wouldn’t be able to bring back the weapon between them. So much to appear intimidating in front of the Universe’s enemy. So much for the Galra to take Voltron seriously.

And so much for  _ surviving _ , too. He just got to hear a “Vrepit Sa” before his mind and body were assaulted by electric pulses. Lance fell to his knees, and his bayard skittered away, deactivating after it stopped sliding under the control panel. Another surge of electricity coursed through Lance’s body, leaving him sprawled out on the ground, muscles tense and throat dry. Had he screamed ?

The shadow of the Galra loomed above him, a device still crackling with electricity in his hand.

Lance’s world had become a tad darker, as he struggled with keeping awake, trying to keep aware of reality and his senses. Considering his predicament, he didn’t too bad, but… not for much longer.

“That will be one less paladin on our hands.” was the last thing he heard, before feeling a blooming pain slicing across his abdomen. If the world had brightened with pain, it quickly brought itself down to darkness, and his body went entirely slack.

 

* * *

 

 

The four paladins kept screaming and grunting, completely out of sync with each other. The Galra ships kept surrounding them, looking like dots above the rainy planet they swore to protect. Ever since the attack had started, the barrage of fire hadn’t let up. And worse, even though they didn’t fully manage, they kept trying to separate the four Lions to prevent them from covering each other’s back. So far it had been an unsuccessful attempt.

“We should never have agreed to escort that stupid artifact!” Hunk half-yelled, between grunts caused by close calls. He shifted on Yellow’s controls and tried not to get too distracted by the noises of explosion coming from all around him. The others didn’t really reply, too busy with their own group of Galra ships, incoming cruisers and anxiety. Each explosion caused concern as to whether or not it was one less enemy or one that weakened the team.

Still, that didn’t keep Hunk from complaining and rambling. “I mean if only we hadn’t sent Lance, maybe the battle would be over by now, you know ? Because-”

He grunted once more, making a wide turn with Yellow so he could bodyslam the last few ships that were between him and Allura. He gritted his teeth as Yellow’s strong armor shook under the explosion, then focused back on protecting Allura’s sides. They’d stick close for the time being… at least until more Galra would sneak between them and use giant laser from the cruisers to break them apart. Hunk continued : “Because, uh, I don’t know ? If Lance had been there with us, then we’d get to form Voltron ? Which is, just saying, in case any of you forgot, the most powerful weapon in the entire Universe ?”

Another few shots here and there. “I mean, the battle would be over already if we had Lan-”

He interrupted himself with a squeak, turning a bit too slow to shoot at an incoming ship. Luckily, before it could damage to Yellow - and himself - it got frozen over, thanks to Allura manoeuvring the Blue Lion around to protect both of them… the Four of them, if the Lions were included. 

“Hunk, we understand your concern, but you know we couldn’t do it another way.” She spun and froze a dozen of fighter jets that were hot on Shiro’s tail. “You saw how agitated the uhnlings were about the protection of the artifact! They wouldn’t-” 

“Watch out !” Shiro yelled, destroying a bigger ship coming their way. He forced his way back through the battle to Pidge, who needed some help.

“They wouldn’t have let anyone but a Paladin of Voltron escort it !” Allura finished, quietly thanking Shiro.

She’d have much preferred having Lance by their side as well, if she had to be completely honest. Ever since the incident with Taujeer, and how dangerous it had been for the team to be separated, she felt reassured to see all five Paladins of Voltron together. Close to each other.

Shiro got quickly separated from Pidge, and she saw that the Green Lion just had taken a quite violent bash in the head- the cockpit. Pidge would probably need a healing pod after this. They immediately made sure she was still able to keep the fight up. She answered fast, as if not to worry the team, but her voice was clearly pained. It didn’t help at all they were all growing tired. The battle had been going on for hours. And they wouldn’t last much longer.

Not without one more fighter by their sides at least. 

Allura snapped back to reality once Shiro called out to her again, moving his Lion in front of Blue to take a hit in her place. She gripped the commands harder and brought down some more fighter jets, throwing a glance at the battlefield. Hunk had been separated from her again, and Pidge seemed even further. Shiro was close, but his flying had grew frantic. She knew what to do.

“Coran !” She yelled in the comms, hoping that it would reach the Castle, even if it was on the planet while they were fighting. “Coran, we need backup !”

The man didn’t reply right away, but the comm crackled to life. However, she only  heard more gunshots on Coran’s feed, and a slow inhale before the connection got abruptly shut off. Dread seized her body.

“Coran ?” She asked with a quiet voice.

When she didn’t get any reply, she started calling out to him more vehemently and more and more panicked. “ _ Coran! _ Reply to me this instant !... Coran !”

A bright, purple light lit Blue’s cockpit as Pidge’s scream echoed in the feed. Allura’s gaze snapped immediately at the Green Lion, whose lights were blinking rapidly… before entirely power down.

She screamed Pidge’s name at the top of her lungs.

 

* * *

 

 

_ “Coran !” _

The man threw his Altean dagger in the middle of the robot’s chest, with a deadly precision. The machine took few steps back before crashing on the Green Paladin’s chair, like a young lad after his first night drinking Nunvil. Coran twirled his moustache proudly. Hah, it was as if he never stopped training since the last ten thousand deca-phoeb.  _ “Coran, we need backup !” _

He rushed to the control station to open the communication device. However, he barely got the time to open his mouth when more robots came in shooting. Of course, curse his luck, one of those shots ended right on the communication device, shutting off all connection he could have had to the Paladins. 

Coran let out an irritated growl before turning on the robot, closing the distance between them, snatching back his Altean dagger to dismember the  _ object _ that dared preventing him from reaching out to his Princess. He kept pushing the enemy back, til he was able to shut the main door off. 

He barely took the time to catch his breath before he was already at the control panel, evaluating the damages, and starting the taking off sequence. The communication device was busted. It’d probably take a trip to the nearest Space Mall to repair that. At least he could take the Castleship off this planet, and hopefully protect the Uhnlings a bit longer. He didn’t check the direction he took off, or that it was  far from the Paladins’ battle. All he cared about was trapping the enemies on the ship, so not one more could break in.

He would protect his Grandpa’s most treasured creation and his pride toward it. He would protect the home of Princess Allura of Altea. He would protect the home of the Bravest Paladins he ever had the chance to meet. 

Or he’d die trying.

Once the castle was safe, hiding in orbit behind one of the many small moons of the planet, Coran straightened, and gripped his dagger tighter. At least…

At least, all of these hours sparring with Alfor when they were but young lads would finally come to be in use. Even if it was ten thousand deca-phoebs too late. He could still protect a part of Altea. He could still protect something.

He stood tall, proud, almost royal in front of the door. The many, many hours of training he had spend with Alfor came back into his old body and then… he opened the door again.

And forgot everything that wasn’t battling skills or instincts, and he fought like a beast. 

 

.

 

The last bot fell, after many other in the corridor. Some parts of it still twitchting from the precise,  _ surgical _ , stab of an Altean Dagger right in the middle of its core. As Coran removed the dagger, he came back to his senses and staggered a little.

He barely gave a glance at the massive destruction around him, and turned in the direction of the main control room.

Allura had required help ! The Paladins were in danger. He had to help Team Voltron ! They needed the backup. How long had it been since they needed him ? He had lost any sense of time and space as he’d went completely berserker on the Galra sentries.

He took a step forward and winced. His hands shot to his side. Would he… would he have been hurt during the fight ? He glanced down. And winced again.

Okay, he definitely had been hurt during the fight. The long semi-burnt gash that spread across the side of his ribs was anything but pretty. It would only get uglier the longer he stood there.

Even though it was for the greater good - he hoped - guilt ate his insides, as he turned his heels to get to the medbay.

Like this, he wouldn’t be of any use to the team. He’d probably faint and bleed to death in the following minutes, if he didn’t haul himself into a pod ASAP.

The med-bay opened, thankfully untouched by the Galra. The Altean limped to the control panel and entered a short code, which opened one of the pods- the cleanest around! He programmed it to release him as soon as his condition would be stable enough. Then, he entered it.

The door slid down, trapping him for at least a small varga of pure healing. 

He waited in silence for the anesthetics to take effect and plunge him in a deep sleep. Before they did however, the doors of the med-bay opened again. He was supposed to be the only one on board. A small creature approached the pods’ control panel, its void-dark eyes staring right into Coran’s… then it looked down and pressed a button. 

As soon as it did, it spared a last glance at the Altean man and fled.

His pod emitted a low rumbling sound and Coran’s guts twisted with fear. Recognizing that sound between thousands. The last sound he heard after saying his final goodbyes to Alfor. The cryofreeze healing process had been activated.

He wouldn’t be released by the pod. Not alone.

As his mind was pulled under, the pod also sunk down to the ground. One last thought crossed his mind ; how long would he stay trapped in a prison of ice, this time ? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to rken42 ( https://archiveofourown.org/users/rken42/ ) for making sure my chapter was Englishized properly !! Hearts in your face !

The alarms were blaring.

That much, he registered.

They were still sort of muffled though, as if Lance had been hearing them from behind a wall. A very strong, very sturdy, very thick wall.

Somehow, he found himself not caring too much about them. It sounded distant, like it couldn’t possibly be anything close to him. He could afford some time for himself, and worry about what was happening later. That wasn’t a big problem. He would get reprimanded about it later. But now ? He felt too numb to try anything.

It unfortunately became his problem not long after. Red light started blaring from behind his eyelids. Red was not a nice color. At least not this one. He had gotten used to the angry red of his Lion a while ago. It actually became a welcoming color recently. Both Red and himself had grown accustomed to each other and were finding their own style of working.

This red… wasn’t nice. It wasn’t even constant; it came and went, striking more violently each time it came back.

Why did he feel so sluggish and cold? Red was usually pretty warm, like a summer breeze on the beach.

The ground started to shake, and Lance got jolted awake. The alarm was much louder, and was blaring in rhythm to the red _DANGER_ lights rotating in the cockpit… The same cockpit that started trembling again, harder.

The motion flared pain all across Lance’s stomach.

Unlike his living room’s calming and lively scent, the entire place _reeked_ of a putrid, metallic and burnt smell of death.

Tentatively, Lance tried to sit up. He wanted to see something other than the glaring lights. Maybe find out why the alarm was blasting so insistently. The main reason would have been his eyes, though, let alone his eardrums. It felt like the assault of light and sound was trying to destroy them. It didn’t help that the hard metal ground was digging uncomfortably in his back as well.

His muscles, he noticed distantly, were extremely tense. Sore too. Last time they felt like this, Allura hadn’t understood humans could only train so long before it became not only detrimental, but excruciating.

Hah, he remembered his wave of irritation at seeing Keith still fresh after the whole exercise while the rest of them, including Shiro, were panting messes.

Lance pressed his palms flat on the ground as leverage. As soon as he slightly curled his spine, he moaned in pain. If he didn’t know better, he would have been convinced his entire stomach had been lit on fire.

He kept going, however. He kept pushing. Even if his moan had promptly turned from a moan to a throaty scream, then shifted to a shaky breath as he finally managed to sit up.

It took a few seconds for his tears to clear again. It allowed him to contemplate the utter death and destruction in front of his eyes.

He had done that.

Memories of the earlier fight came back, hazily, as if it had been a terrible dream. There were too many fine details, the colors were too vivid, the emotions too real for it to be a dream. The metallic, putrid, burnt smell of death hung too sharply in the air. Everything was too real. Almost too realistic. It was disorienting.

That had happened. The Galra had managed to board the ship. They had been searching for the artifact. He was more surprised by his numbness to the sight, than the sight itself. Plus, he still had to see what the ship was screaming about. The faster he discovered that, the faster it would shut up.

With great effort, and a painful stab at each single twitch of his stomach muscles, he managed to crash in the pilot seat. It had been excruciating. If he had been more in touch with reality, he probably would have been able to tell if he had been screaming. If he was, it had been swallowed by the agony he felt and the alarm of the ship.

He stayed in the pilot seat, clamping his stomach down, trying to ease the pain that kept burning through him like wildfire. Once again, the world blurred out. He blinked his tears away, reminding himself of the situation.

And what a mighty bad situation was he in.

Every light they could have possibly put in this damned spaceship were lighting up, as if it was Christmas. He remembered how he and his siblings would have a truce at Christmas, complete with a pillow fort. The blinking lights up the tree could make him enraptured for hours. He chuckled, head slightly lolling with the trembling of the ship. Their Mother wouldn’t even scold them about the mess they would inevitably make with their freshly cleaned pillows and blankets. She was content to see them cuddling close and not trying to kill each other for once.

But it wasn’t Christmas. No pillow fort was at stakes. It was his life.

His life was stuck inside an alien cargo ship, making a nosedive toward a planet’s atmosphere, whose sides were starting to definitely overheat.

With shaking hands, he grabbed the helm of the ship. He didn’t want to die like this. If he had to, it wouldn’t be like this. Not in an ugly nosedive that would leave no body and no memories behind. He wouldn’t fail this mission. Not entirely. Not while they were fighting tooth and nail. Not when they had no idea what was happening to him.

He wouldn’t die in a petty ambush. He would protect the artifact. He would protect team Voltron. He knew he could do it.

Warmth coursed through his body, the tingling seemed to awaken him with energy he didn’t think he still held. Quickly, his hands stopped shaking and his grip tightened on the helm. Lance could see the land of the planet just as he pierced through its clouds.

He pulled the helm close, forcing the spaceship up. It didn’t stop its course, but at least, it wouldn’t burn and crash. The landing would definitely not be pretty, but landing had never been his strong suit anyway. It wouldn’t be pretty at all, but at least it would do the trick. That much he knew. He would _not_ die today.

He _refused_ to die today.

He would live. He would be helpful. He would go back to his friends. He would go back to his family. They would all have a great time. They would make a cake all together, where Hunk would end up irritated at their lack of culinary skills. They would have those moments where they would just enjoy being kids, while they still could, and laugh about the stupidest of things.

He would not die today.

The land approached threateningly fast. Its colors were merging together before disappearing from the cockpit windows. Fear and anticipation pooled in Lance’s guts. The landing’s impact was imminent. It would come any second. Lance couldn’t feel more thankful he was flying over huge meadows, and not some kind of forest, where any kind of resistant branch would pierce through the windows and himself.

He would not die today.

The impact reverberated through his whole body, shaking him to the core. The ship crashed trembling, shaking, throwing dirt all around it, and carving a trail in the ground behind it. Not one grain of dirt got in though. The panels were barely keeping up, trying to hold together, and Lance didn’t know if it would for much longer. He didn’t know when it would stop either. All he could do was hold onto the helm for dear life, trying not let himself be thrashed around and give the ship a semblance of stability.

He wouldn’t die today.

The spaceship came to an abrupt stop.

Lance’s body crashed forward, head slamming down hard on the control panel.

Everything went dark again.

Not for long. He realized he was conscious, as flashes of lucidity faded in and out from behind his eyelids.

He could remember the smell of smoke, almost covering the putrid smell of death and blood. He could remember using the slack helm to rise up on the seat. He could remember a throbbing pain on his wet stomach. He could remember fresh air hitting his face as he stumbled out of the crash. He could remember hitting the ground right before the darkness took over again.

And he could remember that _he hadn’t died today_.

.

It was raining.

It was the same tip-tapping he used to listen to as a kid. The same one he used to glare at through the windows, because it forced him to stay at home. It kept him from the sunny outside, where he could play with his friends. The same rain that got him scolded when he _did_ go play outside anyway, and came back covered in mud.

How could he ever hate that rain ?

Lance flinched as a raindrop splattered right between his closed eyelids.

He forced himself to turn on his side, no matter how much pain it brought him. He didn’t care if he was bleeding to death right this instant, having cold rain slamming itself in his eyes, when he wanted to simply enjoy it, was worse.

Once his eyes were safe, he let himself enjoy the calming rain.

He didn’t know - or cared - how long he laid there, feeling raindrops refresh him. Time was kind of a blur. He wasn’t even sure if he had stayed awake the whole time, or if he had been slipping in and out of consciousness. From the latest events, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things. Being conscious or not was the least of his problems.

As calming as the rain could be, it still didn’t prevent him from going cold and hungry, he noticed.

He didn’t have the will to eat though. Not after being aware of what still was in the spaceship. He knew whatever he managed to get down would just end up back on the ground.

However, finding a warmer place to lay down seemed like a great idea. He would get away from the crashed ship. Away from the blood he had spilled. Maybe it would increase his chances of survival too.

He knew that, usually when lost, the best was to stay put and wait for Mama to come back to him. He knew because it is what he was taught. Also it had worked when he actually did get lost. Mama also had told him that if she wasn’t around, he could always go ask for help to authority figures.

Mama had never taught him what to do when he was lost under the rain on an alien planet. So he didn’t have to listen this time, did he ? He didn’t want to stay put, anyway. Not if the ship was there too. He wanted away from the ship.

With a great effort, Lance looked up the meadow he had crashed in and spotted a mountain. It was really tiny from where he was, but he could hopefully find somewhere warm and _away_ if he went there… At least he hoped.

.

He never stopped going in and out of consciousness, while doing his best to crawl toward the mountain.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but it felt like eternity.

He was cold. He was sore. His stomach never had hurt as much as it did now. His head kept pounding. Each time he woke up from unconsciousness he felt sick in the stomach. Especially  seeing the distance left to go. He got there slowly.

But he had made it.

And found a small cavern.

He didn’t go far in, just enough to be able to listen to the rain, without being soaked by it.

He could finally remember about home, now that he was away from the spaceship. Memories of his mother scolding him, and the empty threats she made, every time he played in the rainy mud, surfaced.

_She shook his muddy t-shirt in her hands. “Look at this mess, mijo.” She shoved his dirty clothes up his face. “Is this how I raised you ? Like a little pig ?”_

_Lance felt his cheeks burn with shame and sheepishly looked down his feet. Anything, so he wouldn’t have to face his mistake. Nor the fire in his Mama’s angry eyes. She kept going, waving the poor clothes around. “I don’t even know how I’ll make that stain go away!”_

_Lance knew better, though. She always made it go away. She was his Mama after all._

_“You know, maybe I should just throw it away, wouldn’t that be easier ?”_

_Lance gasped at that point, and looked up at his mom for a brief second, before being crushed by guilt. He simultaneously, started crying and ran to her, hugging her tight and pleading her not to throw the piece of clothing away. It was his favorite!_

He would always promise to be more careful and not go play outside in the rain anymore. But he would do it all over again. He would forget about the promise, when he got bored sitting inside because of the rain.

He wondered if his mom would clean his flight suit ? How would she react, then ? Imagining his mother flinging his undersuit around, telling him how much of a brat he was for not taking her lessons on decent washing, brought a tired smile to his face.

He could already hear her.

“I don’t care that you’re a protector of the whole universe !” She’d say, her voice going up, and her face getting redder by the minute. “I did not raise a pig !”

… At least, that’s what he thought she’d say.

His mind fell to silence, only to be filled by the pouring rain that kept tip-tapping the alien ground in a disorganized chaos.

He missed his mother.

.

The first thing Lance noticed waking up was the lack of sound.

More specifically the one that lulled him to sleep to begin with.

He wanted to look up toward the sky. That’s when he noticed how incredibly sore his whole body felt. He definitely wouldn’t recommend sleeping on the ground of a random cavern, unless it was the last option available.

He stood up and did his best to look down on himself. His paladin armor was a mess.

He guessed it was time to assess all the damage he received. _Yeah, he could focus on that_ , he thought. That would definitely keep him busy. He wouldn’t have to think too much of…

He wouldn’t have to think too much. That was the best option. Cool ninja sharpshooters didn’t need to think too much anyway, didn’t they ? They were assigned a mission or a target and they just did it.

He unbuckled the pieces of his armor, flinching and groaning at each slight movement. The ones that required him to move on the side were especially difficult. It was probably because he ran into the bot that he pinned to the wall. They didn’t look like it, but they were pretty heavy. Especially when he didn’t have much of a running start to begin with.

Before he could dwell any longer on _that_ moment of his life, he shook himself back to reality.

It was amazing how many muscles he didn’t know he had, until they got sore from exertion  !

Soon enough, he ended up with only his undersuit, noticing the small bump in his chest region.

Pressing down on it, he felt the bump press into his skin… Broken skin, he noted with a grimace, as a small stinging pain ran up his body from the spot.

At least the artifact was whole.

He was surprised it resisted that long as well. Until now he had forgotten about it.He had spent a long time crawling up meadows and rocks on his belly.

It was relieving to know it wasn’t broken.

The mission wasn’t a total failure. He could still return it to its home planet. He could still secure an alliance for Voltron, even if he probably took more time than he should have. He just had to find a way back to his team. That wouldn’t be too much trouble.

Thinking of his teammates made him feel warm inside. He would make them proud. He would return to them, boast about his great journey on this very alien planet, they would laugh along and everything would be great.

He finally started unzipping his undersuit. The smell of burnt fabric, sweat and dried blood attacked him.

That was the end of Lance’s attempts at keeping his mind busy.

He was back in the ship, a very real body that stank of death itself, was staring at him. He remembered the electricity coursing through him. The way his muscles spasmed. The way his head hit the floor as his body crumbled down. And then…

… And then…

_That will be one less paladin on our hands._

Lance’s hands shot up to his stomach, fear freezing his quickening heart over. He had been… He had been left for dead.

He _should have been_ dead.

He looked down to himself. Did he want to really assess the damage ? He had to, didn’t he ? He had been supposed to die, after all. He was supposed to be dead.

He slowly, very slowly, peeled off the suit.

There was blood. A lot of it. All dried. It was his, wasn’t it ? That’s where he was supposed to have a wound. The one that should have killed him.

He undressed further. He had to see that wound. He didn’t _really_ want to see it. He had to though. He had to see the big, gaping hole in his belly.

Lance gulped down. His hands were trembling.

Did he have to see ?

He clenched his undersuit tight in his fists, articulations going white. He… didn’t have to see it, right ?

A nervous chuckle made its way out of his throat. He trembled even more, gasping slightly for air.

Of course he didn’t have to see it. Silly him.

He just had to put back his helmet on, connect himself to the castle, and ask for help.

They were mostly likely done with the fight _and_ the celebration by now, weren’t they ? No way they were still busy. He was… he was sure they were only starting to get worried about him. They were probably already throwing out stupid hypotheses on his radio silence. He just had to put on his helmet to reassure them. Easy. Grab the helmet. Put it on his head. Call the castle. Not have to check the wound himself. Easy peasy.

Step one. Grab the helmet.

He brought his hand down, where he remembered putting it. It was always next to him. As close as it could be, in case anyone needed back up. In case anyone would need to contact him. It had quickly become a habit for everyone. In his room at the Castle, he had quickly put the trinkets someplace else, so he had better access to his helmet.

His hand touched the ground.

Lance looked down at it, puzzled. He slowly petted the ground again, to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination. His helmet _was_ there.

It wasn’t.

He turned on the other side. If it wasn’t at his left, then it was definitely at his right. He had just been a bit banged up and placed it on the other side, no big deal. It had already happened before. He had seen Hunk and Shiro make the exact same mistake. Both had had a visible, internal panic attack when it happened.

Again, his hand met the ground.

Lance stared, throat closing up. His helmet wasn’t there. It was impossible.

He _remembered_ placing his helmet down. He could clearly remember it ! He had sat up, and started taking his armor off and he-...

… Had he taken off his helmet ?

He shakily put his hands over his head.

His fingers only touched mudded -and he hoped only mudded- locks.

He didn’t have his helmet.

He sat up straight, inhaling sharply, uncaring about his body’s protests, or the long burn he felt across his stomach. He didn’t have his helmet.

His eyes darted around the pieces of armor on the ground. He counted every single one of them. No helmet.

Under the chestplate, maybe ?

He lifted the piece up. Nothing. His helmet was nowhere to be found.

Each breath he took started to hurt his lungs.

He couldn’t believe it.

He couldn't have lost his helmet! It was impossible! No… He must have had hallucinated its lack of presence, that was it. There was no way his helmet had disappeared. He was sure he had it.

The edges of his vision became blurry, and made it harder to look around for the missing piece of armor. It was still there. It _had_ to be. Lance just hadn’t looked hard enough for it. It was the only logical explanation. He would have _never_ been careless enough to misplace it.

Lance collapsed back on the ground, heart thumping hard enough to break his ribs, unable to keep a steady breath. Why didn’t he have his helmet ?!

His muscles started to cramp up.

He didn’t have his helmet. It was gone. He couldn’t contact his team. All of this because he hadn’t been strong enough in the ship. Because he couldn’t take out one, single, Galra.

He got seized by another wave of blurry memories.

The Galra’s face, mouth opened, ready for a scream that never came. Blood everywhere. The tall shadow looming above him.

_Vrepit Sa_

The way the ship had shaken as he was crashing, how everything laying down came forward with the final hit, just like his head on the helm. How he had to push a body off himself before standing up and shakily walking outside just to pass out again.

Lance’s body jerked and he weakly turned to the side, gagging. Not managing to stop until he was left coughing, stomach as empty as it was upset.

As he laid there, unable to breathe decently, throat burning, unable to see past his tears, thoughts racing faster than ever, he realized.

The last time he had had his helmet on was back there.

Back to the ship.

If he wanted to contact the castle, the team, anyone, he would have to go back. He would have to see his own injuries. He would have to take care of himself. Even though he was barely able to sit up without crying.

He would have to survive all by himself for who knew how long, injured and away from his teammates. Away from his family.

He would have to go back to the ship.

Sobs began wrecking Lance’s body.

He didn’t want to die.

Not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think ? I hope you enjoyed the chapter ! 
> 
> You can also find me on :  
> https://lokiitama.tumblr.com  
> https://art-lokiitama.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> My first story on this website !! And my first fanfic in 4 years, too- ahem. I hope you enjoyed it !
> 
> I'm on Tumblr !  
> http://lokiitama.tumblr.com/  
> https://art-lokiitama.tumblr.com/


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